As Strange As It Is
by Gaibriel Minuit Noire
Summary: As strange as somethings are, a little door that never opened might be the biggest for Lasair. Her mother's leaving for a short holiday seemed to be the start of it all. Curse that door and its opening. Now Lasair is in the past, as another lives her own life. *Idea from Lost In Austen*


As strange as it is, I didn't ever foresee this. Who could have? How does one go from now to then? One does not. Unless something pulls you. As it is, I was pulled. A transfers of sorts. They wanted to go there, so I was pulled here to replace them. Sickening when you think about it. But how does one cope with the change? Pretending with the help of somebody who knows the happenings.

In actuality, the whole family knew, and the trusted members of the house hold staff. It was a strange switch, very strange.

* * *

"Mama!" I call as I throw my bag down by the door. "Why did you call me so early?"

"Lasair," she calls from further in the apartment, pronouncing the Irish name as it should be. "Back here."

"Mama, I had the greatest-"

I pause as I enter the room. Mama stood only a bit taller than myself, mostly leg. I took the large pot from her before giving a light scolding look.

"Papa said not to let you lift heavy things, mama. How can I be a good daughter when you make it so hard to follow his orders?" I laugh as I push my stool toward the shelf both mother and I had trouble with. At my four feet and eleven inches, Mama only had two inches on me. Thus the stool was well used.

"So tell me of your day," she urges with a warm smile at me, her eyes the same light blue grey as my own. Today, we both wore blue tops, our eyes reflecting the color almost. "You can help me finish packing while you do."

I let out a laugh, girlish as it was. "I had the greatest day at work," I chirp, pushing my mass of curling locks over my shoulders as I followed her to the other end of the apartment. Her travel suitcase was out. "They let me work in the back room instead of the floor."

"Great! And what of that boy," she asks with a playful wink.

My cheeks flame, "Mama! I've no interest in boys. I have more interest in getting the bills paid and keeping Kimi running."

"Oh, Lasair, you're not a little girl anymore. You'll want a family soon. I did when I was your age."

"Little or not, I'm not ready to settle down with a man and let myself become a house wife. I will not be content with that, and you know it."

Mama laughs as I huff, thrusting the folded clothes into her trunk. "You have your father's temper and stubborn headedness all right."

She didn't look at me, happily smiling at her work while she continued to pack. "Mama," I sigh, sadly looking at her. "He'll be home soon. This month."

"I know. I know," she laments, rubbing her hand across her eyes once. "But I miss 'im."

"So do I. But it's what must be done. Come on, finish packing or you wont see Bradley."

"Oh!" she laughs out in a burst of playful excitement. I laugh as I dodge her softly batting hand. "You go get cleaned up."

"Fine. But you hurry up." I lean in and kiss her cheek before hugging her. "I'll miss ya, Mama. Tell Bradley hello for me and tell him I said to quit picking at those dorks."

"I will. I'll miss you too, dear. I wont be gone long."

I smile at her, pulling my jacket off. "You'll only be four days, Mama. I've been longer without you. I can take care of myself."

She lifts a brow, looking me over pointedly. "Oh, skah!" I hiss mockingly at her before smiling again and going into the bathroom. The bathroom was between my room and Mama's room.

Mama was gone when I left the shower in my blue robe and pajamas. I was humming as I put my hair up in the towel, door hanging open behind me. I wasn't even looking as I went into the living room, flicking the Tele on before heading to the kitchen.

"Hello."

I shrieked, dish flying across the room at the voice. The small metal pan hit the wall with a clang before dropping to the floor with a thunk. The female was taller, odd. She wore a white gown, formless with lace at the hemming, and a red house coat of a robe over it. My mouth dropped open, eyes wide as I stared at her. Her hair was coiled up around rags, clearly trying to curl it, face clear of make up. But some thing was off with her. Like she was out of place. I could by far tell by the candle in her hands, and the odd look she gave my home.

"Who are you? Why are you in my home? How did you get here?" I demand, pushing around the kitchen island of a sink and stopping with a short distance between us.

She looked like a frail thing. She looked like Mama. Her features of shock must have looked rather similar to mine. I must have looked familiar to her, judging by the look I received, her hand reaching out to touch my cheek. I jerk back, eyes squinting the slightest in a glared warning.

"You look like my cousin," she whispers with a disbelieving smile. She laughs, shaking her head before looking around the room. "They said it led some where far off. Where are we?"

I lean forwards, touching the fabric of her coat. "You look clear out of the past," I whisper, closely examining the stitching on her robe. She didn't pull away, watching curiously. "We're in America, in Missouri. Where did you come in at?"

"Through the door," she says, with a motion at the small door by the Tele. It was a door that had once led to part of the attic of this old house before they bricked it up and made the other side into another smaller apartment. I frown as I cross to it. The bricks were gone, no sight of them or the mortar in sight, as if it had never been sealed. I crouched before it, looking through it.

"Oh, dear modesty," I say in whispered aw. What should have been an ugly brown carpeted room with white walls was a hall. The floors were wood, and a heat wafted into my living space, sea gull calls and the sound of people calling things in the distance. It looked like I was at the history museum looking through that little door Mama and I loved. The one that showed the view of a hall of a house from the eighteen century. "Where the hell is this? What is this?"

I whirled on the girl, still on my knees before the opening, hand grasping the door. The girl laughed, shaking her head, green eyes twinkling.

"It's my house. In England. The door wouldn't open for the longest time. But Father said that it lead far off. I always thought it was the attic until last week when I finally opened it."

"That was that noise Mama was prattling about?" My brow scrunched as she dropped down by me, setting her extinguished candle aside.

"It was rather late here. I found this lovely thing. Writes without an ink pot. What is it?"

She held out my pen I lost the other day. "My pen!"

"Pen? You all have such advanced technology." She looked over at the Tele playing a music video.


End file.
